First Strike At Fuchsia

Ren and Thorn changed into dark, inconspicuous clothing, pulling cloaks over their attire to hide their identities. The heavy fabric draped over their shoulders, blending them perfectly into the night. 

"Before we go," Ren said, "there are a few rules we must follow."

"We won't use our names when we leave here." Ren said, adjusting his gloves. "From now on, I'm First. You're Last. No exceptions."

Thorn nodded, pulling his hood further over his face. "Got it."

Ren continued. "Limited communication when in battle. We don't want our voices recognized later. Keep everything short, gestures if necessary."

"And if we have to retreat, we do it fast. No hesitation."

Thorn smirked. "So no heroic last stands?"

Ren gave him a flat look. "Not unless you want to die."

Thorn chuckled but took the warning seriously. "Understood. Anything else?"